The westerly gales tossed the ship called Mayflower again. Salty seawater breached
the edges, sending another spill of water to the lower deck. Sally Anne clutched
her middle, praying to settle her stomach. She refused to add to the rank
stench these tormenting waters were forcing her fellow passengers to leave
behind in the cups and bowls the vulgar crewman found.
Another crashing wave—another jolt—sent her head back
against the wooden hull. Pain shot through to her eyes. Screams and cries came
from the small children on board. Hushes and shushes from their mothers and
fathers collided with the vile words spat from the unpleasant crewman who saw
fit to insult every passenger who fell ill.
Sally Anne’s eyes stayed closed, hands latched to her belly.
John, her husband, laced a strong arm behind her, giving her head a soft place
to rest. His other hand held fast to a beam as the boat rocked again. Water
swirled at her ankles and her face rolled into the wet wool of John’s doublet.
The stench of his unclean skin a save from the mounting smell of her fellow
passengers’ revolting stomachs.
Whispered prayers clouded the congested cave of the ship’s
lower deck. Words of thanks, praise, and requests for safe passage floated
above Sally Anne’s head. For she had no words to give to the god her husband so
desperately wanted to follow in this new land. A new land filled with savages
and wilds. A place she didn’t know or understand or want to see. But it was his
will and so she followed.
A fresh pouring of water sloshed through the grate in floor
above. She felt a push against her hands. Her eyes flew open, the moons image
framed in the between the slats. Dark clouds eerily passed over the single
light in the sky as she uttered her own quiet prayer, “I pray thee Lord will
see us safe.”
Wood cracked, tearing through the night like a dagger as the
main beam split.
***
The light sea breeze teased the tendrils falling from Sally
Anne’s coif. The passengers had been allowed a respite from the dark shallows
below deck to dump their latrines and sniff the fresh air before being sent
back to the bowels of the ship. The waters were calm and blue sky peeked from
behind wispy gray clouds. Children ran past chasing a mouser who pursued a rat
twice its own size. The spirits of the passengers had remained steady since the
last terrifying night of the storm. The seas had yet to toss them again so
violently. And once the iron screw had been placed to buttress the sagging beam,
that surely would have meant their death had it not been repaired, it appeared
the Lord had seen fit for them to reach the new land after all.
The journey had been long but the end was near. The crew
anticipated spotting the shores any day now. Any day couldn’t come soon enough
for Sally Anne as she turned for the dark opening and climbed below deck.
She wasn’t two feet down when the call came out, “Land. ‘Tis
land ahead.”
***
Days had passed since the men first took to the shore,
scouting and surveying for a proper place to build their homes. John was among
them and every time he set off for the land, Sally Anne’s heart went with him
anxious for her own turn to walk with the soil beneath her soles.
Each day the men returned without a place to settle, but she
held fast to the hope that it would be found soon. She was in the place where
her family would grow. It was time for her to get off this ship. Her waistcoat
grew tighter by the day. The thump she’d felt in her womb the night of the
great storm was a young one. She hadn’t yet told John, for fear his worry would
overtake him. But soon. Very, very soon. Their child would be born in this new
land—not aboard the ship as had the two women previous to her. Her child would
have a proper home to be born into. And today was her chance to see the land
for herself. She was going ashore.
Sally Anne lifted a basket of soiled clothing, waiting to
board the small boat that would take her and a group of women to land to tend
the laundry. Her heart could barely stand the anxious beat drumming inside her
chest.
The ride over the sea was swift and gentle. Cold water bit
into her skirt and stung with winter’s reminder that it would be here to stay
soon enough. Lugging her wash basket through the shallows Sally Anne finally
set foot on the sandy shore. With unsteady steps she dragged her woolen skirts
from the icy sea and fell to her knees. She pressed her cheek to the stable
ground and kissed it.
“I thank thee Lord for seeing us here,” she said.
The words echoed around her as every other woman in the
group did the same. The feel of the solid ground beneath their feet like a
promise fulfilled and nothing but gratitude fell from their lips. For each of
them knew how desperately their circumstances could have changed upon those trident
waters.
But now they were home, upon the soils that would house and
feed their families and there was no greater gratitude for the blessings they’d
been delivered.
***
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